Honor Thy Memory
by of monsters and me
Summary: Do not lose hope, dear ones. You will find courage within the dead. They will give you strength. 8: Does being turned to stone count as being dead?
1. Twinkle

_Honor Thy Memory_

_Summary: A beauty taken for granted._

**Note**: this is not those clichéd – or rather un-cliché, depending on your view – "let them rest in peace, blah, blah" stories. This will vary. (Not you ship? Jump off.)

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_1. Twinkle, Twinkle_

She looks up into the stars. So beautiful, they are so beautiful. "Can't see the stars." No, she cannot. Not now. But perhaps later, after she rests.

She wants to say many things, but she is so, so very tired. _(Sleep, she needs sleep. It would be such a blessing – such a relief.) _But she cannot sleep. Not now. Now while she needs to tell . . . who? Tell who what?

Then she remembers – and she tells Percy Jackson. "You are not like Hercules." _(And he's not. No.) _

She rests under the stars.


	2. Makeup

_Honor Thy Memory_

_Summary: Makeup was never known to be life-changing. For her, it is._

**Note: **Wow. Thanks _Inferno of the Damned _for the review - the only review.

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_2. Makeup_

After she is claimed, she gets her first makeup kit. It is somewhat of a treasure – something worthy of everything and yet nothing. It is the first thing she can call her own, and it is the first thing that she cherishes.

Curves soft and delicate. Sophisticated – with the childish trust alight in her eyes. Someone who wears tight jeans with an uncommon flourish; who does not flounder in her heels. _(She does not know this person – this stranger.)_

This is who she becomes – the mask she wears to hide the scared girl inside.

(This is who she dies as.)


	3. Moonlight

_Honor Thy Memory_

_Summary: And with her final breath, the moon dimmed._

**Note**: are these relatively easy to guess? I was trying to make it hard, but oh well. _(Also, I wrote this in . . . five minutes, so if it seems bland. Eh.)_

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_3. Moonlight_

She dines with the stars, sleeps under her brother's rays, and dances with sleeping Endymion. She is perfectly content with her life – with her job of giving people hope. It is a wondrous blessing.

So why does she feel weaker?

_(She knows what is happening, and she prepares herself.)_

. . .

Fading. She is fading. Her backup is there – comforting, soothing. _(Being the goddess of childbirth did her well.)_

"You will . . . you will make sure?" The woman next to her nods, understanding the request.

And with her final breath, the moon dimmed. _(And she disappeared – forgotten.) _


	4. Owl

_Honor Thy Memory_

_Summary: Owls always haunted him._

**Note: **Six reviews? Is it safe to try for ten?

P.S: the last chapter was Selene, Titaness of the moon. Her "backup" was Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Alrighty?

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_4. Owl_

The owl haunts him. _(Who, who? Me, me!) _In the dead of night, no matter how far down under he is – under the ground, or asleep – the owl will find her way to him. She is not kind; she is not forgiving; she will only accuse.

And he cannot defend. _(For her accusations ring true. Too true.)_

He can only stand and watch. Can only hang his head in shame. _(What else is there to do?)_

But now he is free. The owl no longer haunts; now, it is approving and sympathetic. _(Irking, yes; malicious, no.) _

And he is happy.


	5. Corruption

_Honor Thy Memory_

_Summary: Why destroy what you cannot gain back?_

**Note: **Pollution is bad, and global warming is taking over!

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_5. Corruption_

Pollution, deforestation, desertification . . . _(So many ways to destroy the Earth.) _Littering, dumping oil, not recycling . . . _(So many ways to destroy his _spirit_.)_

He may be a god, but immortal he is not; youthful no longer.

Humans – or mortals, rather – were corrupting the Earth. So he sent war, famine, and plague among the people, hoping it would persuade them to change their ways. _(It did not – still they were cruel, malicious. Still they tarnished his mother Earth.)_

Why did they not care? How could they destroy his wild places?

How could they destroy his _soul_?


	6. Downfall

_Honor Thy Memory_

_Summary: It's what _defines _him – like leaves to a flower._

**Note: **been a long time, eh? Well, who can guess this?

Anyways, anyone know what ever happened to _Inferno of the Damned _– and also, possibly, Sparks – cause they've been gone for a while now. (And, Alexis, I have yet to review your new thing, but I've read it.)

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_6. Downfall_

He's always been cocky – perhaps a little _too _cocky for anyone's liking _(his or others)_.

But he's never actually done anything about it – the cockiness. It's always just been . . . a part of him. It's what _defines _him – like leaves to a flower, or colors to a rainbow. Just . . . there; just natural; just life. There he is, Titan of the Sun. Why _wouldn't _that power go to his head? _(It'd be insane if not.)_

So, of course, it did.

Is arrogance a fatal flaw?

Guess so. _(They don't call it _fatal _for nothin', after all.)_


	7. Vengeance

_Honor Thy Memory_

_Summary: Figures he would break all the rules._

**Note: **to all who can't figure it out, it's Minos. And . . . my birthday was yesterday, so this is being posted. . . I guess. . . And . . . check out my other 23 stories?

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_7. Vengeance_

His soul was tainted with vengeance. His soul was never fully put to rest – it would always wander, always stray from the path chosen.

As a young child, he was always expected to "do this, do that" like a good, young little prince. And as a "teenage" prince, the ladies flocked him and the males tried to best him. _(He reminded himself that the males _tried _– and failed – and the royal court adored him.)_

But of course, he never had the patience nor the strength to deal with rules.

Figures he would break all the rules through hell and back.


	8. Imprisonment

_Honor Thy Memory_

_Summary: Does being turned to stone count as being dead?_

**Note: **hey, all. ferdinand is grover's uncle who was killed by medusa. cool, ok.

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_8. Imprisonment_

What a silly thing, that death. What a silly thing death is.

The worst part, in truth, is not the everlasting cold, the eternal darkness. No, it is the isolation.

He cannot feel, breathe, speak, hear, move. It is worse than torture, that death. He thinks he has long since forgotten the sweet sounds of the forest—a nymph's laughter as she runs (sometimes from him, and others not), the other satyr's bleats, a flower's first gasp as the wind ruffles her.

What a silly thing, that death. What a silly thing death is.

And Ferdinand hates it, that death.


End file.
